


Challenge Four: Exposed

by Trojie



Series: Pornalot 2016 [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, M/M, really thin excuses for porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7992838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur are caught in a blizzard. You know exactly what happens next, if you've been in fandom for more than ten seconds <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Challenge Four: Exposed

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going with 'exposure' being totally an interpretation of 'exposed' … and paradoxical undressing really is a symptom of advanced hypothermia.

Arthur blames the soft snow and the howling wind for the fact that he doesn't hear Merlin drop his pack, doesn't realise they're down half their gear until it's too late to go back and find it all. After Merlin starts shouting at him, he figures out that the problem isn't that he's a 'stupid, fart-faced clotpoll' - it's that Merlin's hypothermic. He pushes Merlin ahead of him on the trail and picks up the pace even more, figuring that the best thing to do is get down off the mountain.

It's when Merlin starts taking his clothes off that Arthur gets really worried. 

'Okay, we're stopping _now_ ,' he says, and grabs Merlin by the hands before he can pull his shirt off too. 

'We've got to get back,' says Merlin, trying to yank himself away. 'Arthur, stop - I'm boiling in all this stupid gear!'

'We've still got one tent, we're going to use it,' Arthur snaps at him. He manages to hook Merlin's down jacket from the snow with his boot and pull it towards them without letting Merlin go. He shuffles both of Merlin's wrists into one of his hands, shrugs his pack off, and fishes for the tent. Thank god he sprung for the pop-up kind. He wrestles it out of its bag, still one-handed, and tosses it into the air. In a few snaps and twists it turns itself from a Frisbee into a place to sleep. Arthur barely waits for it to stop rocking before he pushes Merlin into it, and his jacket after him. 

He crawls in last, dragging his pack in last, and zips the thing up. Then he fishes for his sleeping bag. 

'Get in,' he says, shoving the thing at Merlin. 'I said _get in_ ,' he growls when Merlin looks like he's going to baulk. 

'Fuck you,' says Merlin, but he's trapped and he knows it. With bad grace, he unzips the sleeping bag out like a blanket and kind of wraps it around his shoulders. 'It's too _hot_ ,' he whines, but he's shivering. Finally, a good sign. Kind of.

Arthur pulls off his own jacket and shirt and basically blankets Merlin with his body, pulls the sleeping bag around both of them and, well, he can't quite zip it up, but, he wraps it as tight as he can, Merlin squirming between his thighs. 

'Get off, Arthur,' Merlin says, wriggling. He's gone a shade of red Arthur can't parse, not until Merlin's twitching ruts him up against Arthur's hip. 'Arthur -'

He's hard. And Arthur, God help him, Arthur has thought - but he's had to not - and he should back off, he really should, but Merlin's skin is still so goddamn cold and clammy. He needs to warm up and the only source of heat is Arthur. So he digs his knees into the groundsheet and lifts his hips up, but keeps Merlin pinned.

'Well this is fucking embarrassing,' Merlin mutters.

'Shut up, Merlin,' Arthur says, but there's no force in it. 'If we just - look, we just need to get you warm again, and then we can - it'll be like it never happened.'

'Nothing _has_ happened,' Merlin says wretchedly. 

For a minute, there's the only the howling of the wind outside. 

'Do - do you want … something to happen?' 

Is that what the wind sounds like when it's wuthering? Arthur always wondered about that. It almost drowns out the sound of Merlin saying, 'Maybe? Do you?'

'If I did, now would be a bloody stupid moment to do anything about it,' Arthur points out, but he can hear himself and he doesn't exactly sound certain. 

Merlin pulls his hands free, because Arthur's lost his grip in more ways than one, and wraps them around Arthur's hips. 'It would warm me up.'

He's … not wrong. 

'This is a bad idea.'

But Merlin has his hands in Arthur's stupid tramping trousers and when his fingertips brush Arthur's cock that's it, that's all she wrote. It's like they both snap, and for five minutes the tent's rocking hard with more than just the wind, as they grind into each other furiously, ripping at the rest of their clothes, until they're in a cocoon of hi-performance fabrics and Merlin's biting Arthur's throat like he can't stop himself. The stinging pressure lights up every nerve ending Arthur has. 

'Fuck, Merlin,' he breathes, grabbing Merlin by the hips and hauling him up tight so they're slick and sweating against each other. 'I want you so badly.'

'So have me,' Merlin groans. 'Years, Arthur, years of doing all these stupid outdoor fucking pursuits with you - '

'- when we could have been doing this -' Arthur interrupts, sliding a hand between their bellies.

'Please tell me this isn't you misunderstanding first aid,' Merlin gasps as Arthur takes hold of their cocks. 'Please, Arthur, when we get down off this godforsaken mountain I'm gonna want you to fuck me in the chalet -'

'I'll fuck you anywhere you want,' Arthur growls, and Merlin's eyes roll back in his head and he comes hard, twitching and spurting and making everything between them molten hot, soaking wet across their skin. Arthur's breath catches hard and he comes like an avalanche, and everything goes white. 

***

When they wake up the snowstorm has passed, and Merlin's like a furnace crushed up against Arthur's side. 

'Guess you're not a stupid, fart-faced clotpoll after all,' Merlin murmurs into Arthur's throat. 'And you're not that bad at first aid, either.'


End file.
